


Laundry Day

by UnderwhelmingAlchemist



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Accidental Henley Heist, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bucky Barnes Has Nightmares, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Lives in Stark Tower, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, One Shot, Sharing a Bed, shirt stealing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28627086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderwhelmingAlchemist/pseuds/UnderwhelmingAlchemist
Summary: Bucky struggles with nightmares, but discovers they improve when he accidentally steals one of Steve's shirts. The only problem is that he really doesn't want to explain to Steve why his shirts keep going missing. One shot, pure fluff.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 12
Kudos: 160





	Laundry Day

Bucky was exhausted. It had been a week since he’d last slept. He may not need as much sleep as a normal human, but a week was certainly pushing his limits. He found himself nodding off at odd moments: at the breakfast table, on the couch while watching movies, sitting on the bench in the team’s locker room after changing. He tried to keep moving to avoid those moments, but it was getting harder and harder to do so, given that he was running on fumes.

Every time he closed his eyes, flashbacks dominated his mind’s eye. The horrible things that had been done to him and the horrible things he’d done to others played out inside his head, making his heart race and panic flood his veins. Obviously, he preferred to avoid that at all costs. Which meant trying to stay awake for as long as possible. 

It was probably this sleep deprivation and lack of attention to detail that led to him grabbing one of Steve’s shirts along with his own from the laundry room, then not noticing it wasn’t his before pulling it on that night. He really didn’t notice until he recognized the scent that lingered on the fabric. 

Steve smelled like his old-fashioned deodorant and something warm and unidentifiable, but purely Steve. The deodorant had changed, but that warm scent remained the same as it did when they were living in the apartment together, spending winter nights with Steve cuddled up to Bucky for warmth. 

It was a comforting smell, and while he considered taking it off and putting it in the laundry again, he figured wearing it for the night couldn’t hurt. He was just staying in his room and watching TV with the hopes that nobody would catch wind of the fact that he wasn’t sleeping. He was pretty sure that Steve had caught on judging by his concerned glances, but every time he’d started to say something about it, Bucky had changed the subject.

He only made it about an hour into the Netflix documentary he was watching before dozing off. 

When he woke up, it was to the sun streaming in through the curtains. He blinked a few times at the light and shoved his face into the pillow. It wasn’t as if his sleep had been perfect. He had vague memories of the usual nightmare themes, but they seemed subdued somehow. And when he woke up, he didn’t have that feeling of being trapped half in his dreams. He didn’t have to fight to come back to reality. It was almost weirder than the nightmares. 

After a minute it became impossible to ignore the light, and he pushed himself up into a sitting position. The scent of Steve lingered from the shirt, and it kept him strangely calm. Maybe it was just the familiarity. It was a scent he associated with safety. 

He got out of bed and stripped off the shirt, stashing it under the pillow before heading to the bathroom to shower. He knew he should probably give it back. Admit that he’d worn it by mistake and make up a lie about how he’d been too lazy to change it. Steve wouldn’t care. But he also probably wouldn’t care if he kept it for another night. 

Steve greeted him as he came out to the kitchen to find breakfast, making a comment about how he looked like he’d slept well. Bucky just shrugged. 

“Got lucky, I guess. No bad nightmares.”

“Well hopefully your luck sticks around. You need the sleep.”

“Yeah. Let’s hope.” Bucky popped open the carton of milk and took a swig. 

Steve made a face. “Really?”

“What? There’s not much left. I’ll finish it off,” he said, closing the fridge door and taking the milk with him. Steve just shook his head and went back to his eggs and bacon. 

Bucky spent another night with the shirt. Once again, it didn’t completely eliminate his nightmares, but it certainly made it more manageable. Two nights in a row like that wasn’t something he could attribute solely to chance, and the only thing that had changed was the shirt. So once again he stashed it under his pillow, telling himself he’d only keep it for a little while longer. Steve wouldn’t care. If he knew it was helping with his nightmares, it wouldn’t matter, right?

Four more days later, Bucky was sitting at breakfast again, eating a bowl of cereal as Steve ate the same breakfast he ate every day. Steve was many things nowadays, and one of them was predictable. At least when it came to some things. 

“You know, I can’t find that blue Henley anywhere,” he spoke up after a couple minutes. 

“How the hell did you even notice? You have like twenty shirts. And all of them are either Henleys, t-shirts, or the occasional button-up,” he pointed out, trying to ignore the way his heart was hammering in his chest. He really didn’t want to explain to Steve why he’d been hiding one of his shirts away in his room. 

Steve shrugged. “Natasha pointed out that this is the longest she’s seen me go without wearing it.”

“Huh. I guess you do wear it a lot,” Bucky replied, trying to make it sound like he’d never noticed that before. It was one of Steve’s favorite shirts, and it always made the soft baby blue of his eyes stand out. It was also tight in all the right places. He loved that shirt. 

“Anyways, I’m not sure what happened to it.”

“I’ll check my laundry later. Maybe it got mixed up with my clothes.” 

“Would you? Thanks.” Steve gave him a little smile. “I’m sure it’ll turn up eventually.”

“Yeah, probably,” Bucky agreed. 

Later that day after a quick run through the washer and dryer, Steve’s shirt was folded neatly. Bucky dropped it off in his room, scribbling a quick note to go with it. “Haha, guess I was right. I probably would’ve noticed if I ever bothered to put my shit away. Anyways. Here you go. -B”

It was like the nightmares had somehow grown pent-up being held back by Steve’s shirt. He woke up after maybe four hours of sleep screaming himself hoarse. It took him a full twenty minutes to realize where he was and what was going on and that it was all just a nightmare. His name was Bucky Barnes. It was 2021. He was safe. And thank god his room was soundproof. 

Steve clearly noticed something was wrong. Bucky was quiet at breakfast, and he just used the single word excuse of “nightmares” when Steve looked at him with concern. He seemed to understand, but his concern was evident. It had been almost a week of him being more energetic and upbeat, a little more willing to come out of his shell, smiling a little more and joking more often. But of course all of that had to come crashing down eventually. 

Later that day when Steve was in the gym Bucky went into his room, picking out a shirt that he wore often enough to smell like him, but not so often that he’d notice it missing. It ended up being one of the ten or so t-shirts he owned. Nothing that would be missed. 

That night, things went back to his new normal, the smell of safety keeping the nightmares to a manageable level. Steve seemed somewhat relieved to see him a little more awake at breakfast than he had been the day before. He didn’t question why, he just seemed happy that he was getting sleep. 

A week passed, then another, then another. After about six or seven days, the shirts would start to lose their scent, so he’d carefully tuck them away in Steve’s laundry hamper and pick out a new one that wouldn’t be missed. He was getting the best sleep he had in years. Natasha was the only one who knew about the shirts, and that was only because she somehow knew everything. Bucky was convinced she either had the place bugged or was somehow psychic. 

At least, she was the only one who knew until about a month in. 

That morning, Bucky hadn’t bothered to shower like he always did in the mornings, deciding instead to skip right to breakfast. By then, wearing Steve’s shirts to bed had become so routine that he barely thought about it anymore. Which definitely wasn’t a good thing. There were a couple times when he’d caught himself in the hallway still in Steve’s shirt and had to hurry back to his room to change before heading back to the kitchen. 

That day, he didn’t catch himself in the hallway. He made it all the way to the kitchen, where he opened the fridge and pulled out the milk, judging how much was in the container before popping it open and taking a swig. He turned to look over at the table, only to find Steve staring at him with his brows knit together. 

“What? I always finish it.”

“Is that my shirt?”

Bucky almost choked on the milk he was drinking. Shit. He glanced down at his/Steve’s shirt, then looked back up at the man who was still staring at him in confusion. “Okay, I can explain.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. 

“…Shit, you’re actually going to make me explain, huh?” he realized. “Okay, so… It was kind of an accident at first. Remember that blue Henley that went missing? It ended up with my clothes, and I ended up wearing it. And… it helped me sleep. So I kept it. And then you wanted it back. So I swapped it out.” He decided to leave out the part where he swapped it out three more times after that.”

“My shirts help you sleep?” Steve questioned, seeming genuinely confused. “Why?”

“…They smell like you,” Bucky mumbled into the milk carton, hoping Steve didn’t hear him. But of course he did. Damn super-soldier hearing. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I dunno. Because it was weird? What was I supposed to say, ‘Hey, Stevie, I like how you smell so I sleep with your shirts’? Most people don’t sleep with their best friend’s clothes.”

“Maybe. But we’re not ‘most people’. We never have been.” Steve managed to catch Bucky’s eyes over the milk carton. “Buck, if my shirts help with the nightmares, you can have as many as you want whenever you want.”

Bucky blinked. “Wait, really? This isn’t too weird for you?”

“Bucky. I’ve fought aliens in the middle of Manhattan in star-spangled spandex and leather. You borrowing my shirts is not the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me,” Steve deadpanned. 

“I mean, I guess you kinda have a point.” Bucky gave him a little smile. “I promise I won’t take the blue Henley again.”

“Good. I think that’s where I would draw the line.” 

Bucky grinned, then took another swig of milk and went to hunt down a box of cereal. They really needed to go to the grocery store. While his back was turned, Steve spoke up again. 

“You know, if my scent helps you sleep that well, we could always just share a bed.”

Bucky froze, processing his words. Share a bed with Steve? He knew they’d done it in the past, but that was _before_ HYDRA turned him into the world’s deadliest assassin. He didn’t understand why Steve would feel safe sleeping next to that. 

“If you’re not comfortable with it, we don’t have to. But it would be like old times when we were trying to keep warm in the apartment or in the field.”

“It’s not that I’m not… I mean…” Bucky paused. “It might not be safe. There are still… nightmares. Things that trigger the Soldier. I’m not sure what would happen if I were next to someone.”

“You can’t hurt me, Buck. Anything you do I’ll heal from. Besides, I’m a light sleeper. And you said my shirts help with those nightmares, right? When was the last time you woke up as the Solider?”

Bucky was silent. 

“Exactly. Bucky, look at me.”

Bucky sighed and turned to meet Steve’s painfully earnest gaze. 

“Please? Can we just try this? If it helps make the nightmares go away, isn’t it worth a shot?”

Damn those puppy-dog eyes. He was never going to be able to say no to them. “Fine,” he relented. “But if a single thing goes wrong, I’m going back to sleeping alone.”

“Why don’t we start tonight? I go to bed at ten, but you can come whenever you want.”

“Alright. I’ll probably turn in around midnight.”

“Sure thing.” Steve finished the last of his breakfast and stood up, going to rinse and tuck his dishes in the small dishwasher. “Oh, and Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“My shirt suits you.” Steve turned and left, leaving Bucky with his ears burning. 

True to his word, Bucky ended up coming to bed around midnight. Steve was fast asleep, but the second Bucky put his weight on the bed, his eyes were open. He really was a light sleeper.

“Just me. Go back to sleep.”

Steve studied Bucky in the low light, yawned, mumbled something indecipherable, and closed his eyes again. Bucky climbed into bed, pulling the blankets over himself. The whole bed smelled like Steve. Warm and calming and _safe_. He was asleep in a matter of minutes.

When he woke up the next morning, he was pressed up against Steve’s side, one arm draped over his waist. He didn’t really register where he was at first, the first thing he noticed being how warm the body beside him was. He instinctively cuddled closer, closing his eyes again. 

“Good morning, Buck,” Steve chuckled. 

Bucky looked up, finally realizing what was happening. He felt his face flush. Steve just laughed, putting aside his book and running a hand through Bucky’s hair. “I’m guessing you sleep okay?”

“Yeah, I did,” he mumbled, not quite moving yet. As embarrassing as it was to have woken up cuddled up to Steve, he was incredibly comfortable right where he was, and the hand in his hair felt really nice. 

He thought about how easily Steve had woken up the night before. He had to have woken up at least once as Bucky moved closer, which meant that he’d felt him cuddle up to him and made the conscious decision to let him stay. Even after he was fully awake and able to make proper decisions, he’d looked at the man asleep half on top of him and decided that he wanted him there, or at the very least, valued his sleep over his own personal space. And now he was sitting there playing with his hair, smiling down at him in a way that could almost be described as ‘adoring’. 

“I like your hair like this,” Steve commented, twisting a lock of hair around his index finger. 

“Really? You don’t miss the old hair?”

“Sometimes. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t love what replaced it.”

Bucky wondered if they were still talking about his hair but decided not to question it. Instead he just closed his eyes again, enjoying the feeling of Steve playing with his hair. “I miss the old days sometimes. When everything was simpler. I don’t miss how sick you were, though. Or living paycheck to paycheck and sometimes having to steal food to survive.”

“You never told me you stole food.”

“Only way I could keep us fed some months.”

“If I’d known…”

“You’d have done what? You couldn’t keep a job, and nobody was looking to buy art in one of the poorest areas of Brooklyn.”

“I would’ve found a way.”

“I’m sure you would’ve.” Bucky opened his eyes, looking up at Steve. “If I could take the you from now and pair you up with the me from all those years ago, I think I would. You could have a fully stable Bucky, and the fully stable Bucky could have a completely healthy Steve.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“What?”

“I wouldn’t. I like what I have now.”

“Come on, you can’t honestly say you don’t wish you had him back sometimes.”

“Sometimes. When I get really nostalgic. But I don’t want to give up what I have now.” Steve gave him a soft smile, tracing his jaw with his thumb. “I like this Bucky just fine.”

“But-”

“Buck, just trust me on this one.”

“I…” Bucky let his sentence trail off. Steve was looking at him so sweetly, like he was the most amazing thing in his world. It was a look that was familiar, but he’d never seen it so close up before.

He wasn’t sure who moved first. But suddenly Steve was leaning down and Bucky was leaning up, and then their lips were meeting in the middle. The kiss was soft and sweet and all-enveloping. Steve kept his hand tangled in Bucky’s hair, and Bucky reached up to cup Steve’s cheek in his hand. 

They didn’t pull away for a long time. Both of them could hold their breath for an excruciatingly long period of time, so when they pulled away, it wasn’t to breathe, but rather because Bucky wanted a good look at Steve’s face. 

“I love you,” Steve breathed out. “And I know you might not be ready, and you don’t have to say it back right now, but-”

“I love you too. Always have, always will,” Bucky cut him off, pulling him back in for another long, sweet kiss. This time when the kiss broke, it was because both of them were smiling too much for it to continue. 

“I could do this all day,” Steve chuckled. 

“So why don’t we? You’ve got this nice bed, we may as well use it for something.”

“I think that’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I wrote this instead of sleeping... Looks like tomorrow's going to be a 'chug a monster before work' day. Anyways, I hope you have a good 2021! Stay safe!  
> Follow me on Tumblr and find out when I post new fics: @underwhelmingalchemist


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